


it's a matter of time 'til our compass stands still

by Klainesflirtyduets



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, Angsty at first, F/M, river and eleven are childhood best friends, the doctor is john smith, they get separated but
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-07-29 12:30:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7684576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klainesflirtyduets/pseuds/Klainesflirtyduets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and River grow up together at the Greystark Hall Orphanage as the bestest of friends until they're eleven.<br/>
And then, she gets adopted and John thinks he'll never see her again.</p>
<p>"You are really weird.”<br/>John’s expression falls at that, feeling a bit self<br/>conscious. But then Melody is poking him in his arm to make him look at her. “I like you weird.<br/>I’m a bit weird too.” She says, smiling. John does the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1.

John lies on his back, eyes staring in the darkness before him. There’s not a sound around him, all the other boys of his dormitory have been sleeping for hours now – he doesn’t know how many; he just knows he couldn’t sleep even if they’d drugged him. He doesn’t want too, either. He doesn’t want to close his eyes and open them that’s already tomorrow. He dreads tomorrow. He doesn’t want it to ever come. Tomorrow will be the worst day of his life and John wishes he could just stop time. 

He knows it’s selfish of him, thinking like this. He should be happy. He always is when other children are adopted and move into their new homes with their new nice families. He should be even more happy, because it’s rare that the oldest of the institute are chosen; newlyweds, and wannabe parents in general, usually prefer babies or little children. They’re noisy, but cuter and easier to integrate than a prepubescent sack of issues. But mostly, he should be because the person that’s about to be given to the care of a family is River, which happens to be his best friend. 

He probably deserves the award for the worst friend ever existed, with this level of selfishness. Still, he can’t do a single thing about it. Even thinking about how happy she could be with the new family doesn’t seems to tame the unfairness of it all in his heart. She’s his best friend, his family, his anchor. River is everything to him and they’re snatching her away from him. How can he not feel betrayed? Not by her, of course. Never by her. But he does feel a bit mocked by the universe, that seems to enjoy seeing him hurt. It took his parents, gave him River and now it’s taking her from him again. So he doesn’t feel sorry if he’s a bit angry and bitter. It’s not like his feeling can change the situation. And of course River doesn’t know and when the moment comes, he’ll be supportive, even if he knows he’ll miss her like crazy, that it’ll break his heart. 

John tries to swallow the enormous lump in his throat. And of course it doesn’t go away. He doesn’t cry, though; if he starts he won’t ever stop and he’s not going to let River see his selfishness. He doesn’t want her to be even more upset, that’s really the last thing he wants. 

A sudden rattling sound steals him from his thoughts. John frowns, sitting upright in his bed and trying to make something out of the darkness. He hears the door cracking open and closing quietly, then light steps approaching in his direction. He relaxes immediately. 

Without waiting another second, John scoops over to make some room for River on the bed and lies down again. Soon the mattresses are lowering a bit as she climbs on them and slides under the covers. They struggle a bit while positioning until River is snuggled closely to him with her head against his chest and John’s arm safely around her. They both sigh at the familiar closeness. 

It’s always nice hugging her. There’s never been a moment in the eleven and a half years of his brief life where having River in his arms didn’t make him feel good and safe and cared for. This is what he imagines, when he thinks about a home. Or a family. River is all of these things. She’s always been _everything_ to him. She’s the one who kicked the older guys that picked on him, she’s the one he goes to when something funny comes to his mind or when he wants to talk about his dreams and share his thoughts and she’s the one that meets his eyes in silent jokes when Miss Kovarian turns her back. She’s the person that always accepted him and loved him even though he’s kind of weird and clumsy and nerdy. And he doesn’t want to be without her. He wants to be by her side when she gets in trouble and he wants to be close when she feels like sneaking in his bed to talk about her nightmares or anything else, really, and he wants to share stolen fish fingers and custard with her in the middle of the night and hugging her and hearing her laugh at him or with him and playing with her magic hair and just being in her life. 

But by tomorrow, all of this won’t be possible anymore. 

As if she’s reading his mind and wants it to stop thinking, she breaks the silence with a whisper. 

“I couldn’t sleep.” She informs him, half explaining half complaining. John can’t help but smile in her crazy curls, a bit touched and mostly amused, even though his heart is literally breaking. “And of course you decided to crash into my bed and ruin my beauty sleep.” 

River huffs against his chest. “You weren’t even sleeping. I’ve hardly ruined your anything.” she says, accomplishing to sound incredibly sassy even in a muffled whisper. “And besides, you’re a lost cause.” 

He pokes her in the sides in revenge, making her squirm helplessly. “Stop that!” she whispers intensely, sounding incredibly menacing even without thundering loudly as usual. He just snickers soundlessly then they both fall quiet again. Without a word, John starts playing with her hair gently, waiting for her to start talking again. 

They’re not strangers to this – sneaking in each other’s dormitories in the middle of the night in search of comfort when something bothers them. John uses all of his willpower to push away the reminder that this is the last time they’ll do this and focuses on their matching breathing pattern. He doesn’t have to wait long to hear her speak again. 

“I keep wondering about what I’ll find.” She says, softly. His heart aches at her words, but he doesn’t say anything, focusing on what she’s trying to tell him. “I don’t know if – I don’t know, anything I try to picture just feels weird.” She confesses in a tormented breath. 

He leaves a soothing kiss on top of her head. “River, it’s okay to be a bit scared. But think about it.” he murmurs, trying to keep his tone light to calm her. “You’ll have a mum and a dad and a nice house with a dog, maybe, I don’t know if they have one, and let’s not forget you won’t have to share a bathroom with at least fifty other people.” He jokes, earning an adorable snort from her.

“That’ll be a nice change after eleven years of that torture, I’m sure.” She muses and John is silently glad he manage to lighten her mood for a second at least. But it doesn’t last long – something snaps in her head and her body goes tense again, pressing against his desperately, her hand closing in fists around the cloth of his pajamas top. 

John holds her tighter in an automatic reflex; it’s second nature for him, getting protective the moment she shows her weaknesses. It’s such a rare event to see her openly vulnerable. He never knows if he feels happy or cursed that he’s the only one that gets the chance to see her like this. It shows the length of their friendship, of her trust, but it’s also so heartbreaking he’s barely able to bear it. The instinct to make her feel better just kicks in. 

River breathes him in deeply, shakily, her forehead against his sternum. “John. Why am I like this? Why am I not normal? Why am I so _wrong_?” 

His heart skips a beat at that. What the hell is she talking about?

“Why would you even say that?” he asks her, more sternly than he’d hoped, but he can’t help but feel upset about her words. 

“Because it’s true. I feel so ungrateful but I don’t want to go away, John. And what orphan would ever say that?” she mumbles, her voice breaking and tears wetting his pajamas. “What _person_ would ever hate the idea of being chosen and welcomed by nice people?” 

Well, this is utter crap. 

“Ehy, hey, look at me” John says, cradling tentatively her face and pressing his forehead against her. He can barely make out her face with just the light the moon is casting in the room, but it doesn’t matter. “Stop thinking that about yourself right now, do you hear me? Stop that. It’s just a bunch of really stupid things. Don’t ever think, not even for a moment, that you are wrong, River.” He mutters with vehemence. He wants to erase every single bad thought about herself in her head. “You’re not wrong. You’re brilliant and amazing and caring and strong and a bit mad, yes, all the best people are a bit crazy. And it’s _okay_ to be weary of changes when you’ve always been your own guide. I would be a bit taken aback too, in your position. So please, _please_ stop being so hard on yourself.”

He can feel her quivering breath on his face this close. John, on the other hand, suddenly finds the mere act of breathing quite difficult. 

River nods briefly and literally melts again against his chest, her head finding her usual spot under his chin. A sigh tickles his neck. “I don’t want to be without you, John.” She cheeps quietly. “How am I supposed to be happy without you?” 

His heart shatters into a million pieces and holding the tears is more difficult than ever. He just hopes she won’t notice them. 

“You have to be happy, River.” He murmurs, but even in his whisper there’s a tone of finality, even if it kills him. “I’m telling you, not asking nor wishing. I want you to be happy. This is a promise you have to keep.” 

“I don’t know how.” 

“You’ll learn.” He answers, leaving another kiss in her hair to comfort her and himself too. 

River sniffs quietly. “Will you? Learn to live without me.” 

John knows he could lie to her. Tell her that of course he’ll manage to live without her, convince her that this is the only thing they can do besides being miserable. But this is a last for them, their last confession, their last chance to say what’s to say. So he tells her the truth. 

“I don’t think I can. Or want to.” 

“Then why are you asking me to, when for me it’s the same?” she whispers brokenly again. 

John swallows thickly around the lump in his throat. Talking is getting harder as the seconds pass. “Because without this promise, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to accept you going away.” He confesses as his voice cracks, and there’s no hoping she doesn’t notice him crying now. 

River digs her nails into his chest and it stings a bit even through the fabric of his pajamas. “If I promise, you’ll do the same.” 

They don't talk after that. The silence around them is heavy with all the things left unsaid, but even heavier with the importance of those they have confessed. They don't sleep either, because their hearts are beating so loud it's impossible to be distracted by Morpheus, but mostly because this is their last night and they can't waste it by being unconscious. They hold each other tighter than ever, as if they want to fuse with one another and wouldn't that be great? Never worry about being separated again? But this isn’t about hoping, this is about taking what they can while they can, so John pushes away useless musings and focuses on memorizing River's smell, her softness, the weight and the warmth of her body against his, the rhythm of her breathing, the way she's clinging to him as if her life depends on him. 

They watch as the darkness of the sky fades to brighter, pinky tones, painting with ever-changing shades the grey walls of John's dormitory, divided between elation for the sight before them and dread for what it means. 

Once the sun finds completely his place in the sky, River will have to go. In spite of his numb limbs and exhaustion, regardless of the hours spent like this, John's not ready to let go yet. He never will be, but at some point he won't have a choice. 

This is not the time to think about it, though, not when he can behold River being bathed in the morning sun. 

His heart feels incredibly heavy with emotion. He never got the chance to see her this way, simply because all their escapades ended before dawn. This is one last first for them. He intends to imprint it on his retinas so he won't ever forget the image. 

It's glorious. _She_ is glorious, with hair that looks like burning flames in the orangy light of dawn and skin that seems to be coated in honey and eyes that shine brighter than the star itself. 

He wishes he could freeze time in this exact moment more than ever. 

But the clock is ticking and time is slipping from their fingers and soon the alarm will go off. River needs to go back to her room. 

"I promise" she says, breaking the silence for the first time in hours and breaking his heart too. Then she's slipping out of his fingers, out of the bed, out of the room. Out of his life. Leaving John with nothing but emptiness inside and around him. 

She promised. He won’t.

***

River’s new parents come get her after breakfast. John secretly follows them as Madame Kovarian takes his best friend to her office. He hides behind the half closed door and looks at River, barely wasting a glance at her new carers. 

He watches as their curator pats River on her hair with false affection, but she barely reacts, which is incredibly uncharacteristic of her. John hates seeing her like this. Pliant and silent and spiritless. It breaks his heart. 

He barely registers her adoptive parents shaking hands with Madame Kovarian. Then they’re moving again and John jumps back when the door opens completely. The three adults step outside the room with River following after, but she’s the one to notice him first. 

He shouldn’t be here, but he doesn’t care if he gets in trouble. Especially now that River’s hugging him again. He buries his face in her hair and inhales deeply. 

“Keep the promise.” He whispers in her ear. River squeezes him even more and nods briefly. 

And then she’s gone.


	2. Chapter 2.

For awhile, John seems to stop functioning like a proper human being. He doesn’t talk, he barely eats and even sleeping is a difficult thing for him. 

He’s surrounded by River’s absence. Everything around him reminds him of it. Every time something funny happens and he turns to find no one by his side; every time he sits alone at the table at lunch and dinner and breakfast; every time an idea comes into his mind and she’s not there to listen to him; every time he feels like crying and she’s not there to drag him into some kind of trouble.

It’s deafening and exhausting and overwhelming and there’s nothing he can do about it. River’s not there and she’s not coming back to fill the void inside him. 

What’s worse is that John doesn’t want this ache in his chest and this constant nausea in his stomach to go away. Being painless would mean being okay without her, would mean forgetting her. So he holds onto his pain, onto the voracious emptiness that eats his insides, like it’s his lifeline. He masochistically wallows in it, because he can’t do anything else, because nothing else seems a possibility he’s willing to give in to. 

Eventually things start to lose meaningfulness to him. Everything seems so pointless and dull without River to share it with. Like the world has lost its spark, like it’s been coated with grey paint. He just lives passively, doing the things he has to do because he knows he can’t just stop living, but it’s just not the same. 

And god, he misses her. He misses her every second of every day in everything that he does. Part of him hopes this endless longing never stops. The idea of the contrary terrifies him too much. 

***

_ "John, are you hurt?" Melody asks him worriedly, kneeling next to where he's crouched.  _ _ _

_ He sniffs a bit, trying not to cry. It's nothing, he tells himself, Joshua is just a big meanie and the scratch on his arm is nothing, even if there's a bit of blood. He nods to Melody, but he doesn't open his mouth because he knows that if he does his voice will be wobbly.  _ _ _

_ "Ooh, poor Johnny is crying" Joshua mocks, laughing with his friends. Melody glares at them and before John can do anything to stop her, she's already marching towards the group of ten-year-olds. Joshua looks at her maliciously, like he's ready to humiliate her as he did with him, but before he can't even open his mouth to spit something crude, Melody hits him square in the face. It's not so strong - she's really small, after all - but Joshua yelps and swings backwards anyway, unsteady on his own feet after the blow. Probably for the surprise.  _ _ _

_ John stops breathing. Silence falls all around them.  _ _ _

_ "Don't you dare hurt my best friend again." Melody says, gracefully turning her back to the older guys to help him on his feet. She takes him to the sick bay, where she sneaks in to borrow antiseptic and patches, and then they head to John's dormitory. By the time he sits on his bed with her, the shock of the happenings has worn off.  _ _ _

_ "You hit him." he spits, as Melody cleans his cuts expertly. They've lost count of the times they've patched each other up after getting in trouble. So much that they don't even need to ask things to Christina, the nurse.  _ _ _

_ She shrugs. John glares. "That was really stupid. Now they will be mean to you."  _ _ _

_ "And I'll hit them again." she says easily.  _ _ _

_ "You're just eight. They're big and a lot."  _ _ _

_ "Don't care. Oh, here you go." she tells him as she places the patch over his bigger scratch. "All good." _ _ _

_ John huffs, crossing his arms against his chest, annoyed. "I don't want you in danger."  _ _ _

_ "Where's the fun in that?" she jokes, but it's not funny at all to him. Melody's always defending him from someone and he's really afraid she'll get hurt someday. Especially now that she pissed off the older ones.  _ _ _

_ John sighs and sags against his pillows. Melody snuggles close to him. "Don't worry, Johnny. I'll protect the both of us."  _ _ _

_ "You're a bit of a superhero." he muses, playing distractedly with her magic hair. "Can I find you a new name? One only I can use, because I'm the only one who knows your secret identity."  _ _ _

_ "Only if it's cool." John smiles to himself. He already has an idea.  _ _ _

_ "Well, then. You're strong and a bit wild and super sneaky and really really graceful. And your eyes are greenish and blueish like water." John says, "What about River?"  _ _ _

***

He’s twelve and a half when Janeth and Donald Smith bring him to their lovely house in Northampton, and he’s still grieving his loss. 

So he doesn’t really care about finding friends or being remotely normal to his classmates. Rumors about him and his past spread in the school and he does nothing to deny them even if they’re untrue. Eventually, he gets labeled as the lonely, clumsy weirdo adopted by the generous Smiths. Even the losers of the school avoid him. 

He’s not bothered by that. Even back in the orphanage he kind of received the same treatment. River was the only one that went beyond his quirkiness. She was his only friend, the only other person he wanted and needed in his life. Things aren’t any different now. He’s not intentioned to replace her.

***

_ "Sorry?" John mumbles, patting the little girl on her shoulder. She turns her head to him, still holding her sharpie in her small hand, looking at him crossly at first. Then she looks at him with curiosity. John feels his cheeks burn, but he soldiers on because he's nearly four and he's not afraid of little girls.  _ _ _

_ "Can I ask you something?" he says, rocking back and forth on his heels. The little girl nods, looking at him strangely.  _ _ _

_ John holds out a finger. "What's your name?" he asks. He remembers playing with her but not her name.  _ _ _

_ "Why?" she says.  _ _ _

_ He tells her what he's just thought. She eyes him for a bit before answering. "Melody." _ _ _

_ "It's beautiful!" he exclaims, awed. John knees besides her, smiling broadly. "It's like a name in a fairytale!" At that the little girl - Melody - smiles shyly. "I am John." he says, "Can I be your friend?"  _ _ _

_ Melody shrugs, but the little smile is still there. "Okay. Do you want to draw?" she asks, handing John another sharpie. He nods, grabs it and takes the second paper Melody has.  _ _ _

_ "You're my first friend." John informs her after awhile. "Here, this is you. See? And this is me." he says, pointing to the two stick figures he's just drawn. One of them has wild doodles around its head. It's her hair. "You really have space hair, you know? I like it."  _ _ _

_ Melody blushes and busies herself in her own drawings. "John" she says after awhile. "You're my first friend too." _ _ _

_ He grins for the rest of the time.  _ _ _

***

His foster parents, he finds, are really lovely people. 

Donald works in the bank, Janeth loves gardening, and they’re always kind and affectionate and every single person in Northampton loves them dearly. John can absolutely see why right from the beginning. They’re so unbelievably perfect they could be coming out of a biscuit commercial, basically. 

They’re also the least suitable people to parent him. 

Not because they’re not good at the job per se. In truth, they could be the greatest parents ever existed, if they had the chance to raise an ordinary kid, one that conformed to social expectations and all that stuff. 

John is not. He is quirky and _way_ too smart and broken and grieving and unapologetically himself no matter what. In a town such as Northampton, he’s as fitting as pair of heels on an elephant. He doesn’t fit in and the other people – with the exception of his adoptive parents - don’t want him to, because he’s different and that can’t change, no matter how hard Janeth and Donald wish he did. 

Still, they’re amazing people and they do try hard to be good parents to him, regardless of their differences. 

John wishes he could be just as good. 

***

_ “A police box?” Melody asks, their hands entwined and her hair all spread out around her head like stars while they lie down and look at the clear sky.  _

_ John smiles up at the clouds. “Yes, a police box! But I don’t want just a normal one, you know? I want a magic one. That’s like a spaceship, which is bigger on the inside!” He turns his head to grin at his friend expectantly. “With a swimming pool!” _

_ The girl is looking at him strangely. “You are really weird.”  _

_ John’s expression falls at that, feeling a bit self conscious. But then Melody is poking him in his arm to make him look at her. “I like you weird. I’m a bit weird too.” She says, smiling.  _

_ John does the same.  _

***

He’s still looking for her everywhere his gaze wanders. He still expects to hear her laughter and smell her perfume and to hold her hand. 

It’s been three years and he misses her more than ever.

***

_ "Oh, blimey, River, they're getting closer!" he screeches, as they run faster than ever down the road towards their orphanage. How ironical that they're running to and not away from it. Well, John guesses, there's a first time for everything. And a last time, if they get caught. He tries to look over his shoulders to see if they managed to lose the couple in the crowd but River grabs his hand and tugs him forward.  _ _ _

_ "Stop looking or we'll get slower, John!" she yells to him. Always holding his hand tight, she turns into the first small street at their right. "This way! It's a shortcut!"  _ _ _

_ "But River, we hit a dead alley!" he pants, looking worriedly at the brick wall at the end of the street and starting to lose his pace. But River is relentless. "It's not. We'll climb over it!" she explains.  _ _ _

_ "Do you want me to die?!"  _ _ _

_ River stops abruptly a few feet from the wall and moves a bin against it. "It's not so high, so move your bum. You go first."  _ _ _

_ "Why me?!" he laments, crossing his arms against his chest. River rolls her eyes, annoyed. "Because if they got to us - which they will if we don't hurry up - you'd stop trying climbing the wall and I'm not leaving you behind to play the martyr. So, chop chop!"  _ _ _

_ John wastes a second they don't actually have to grin at her like a fool. But then she pushes him towards the bin - rude! - and she's suddenly less cool with all this bossy attitude. He eyes the - admittedly not so high \- wall and sighs, before attempting to climb it.  _ _ _

_ Somehow, he ends on the other side without breaking his head in a half. He doesn't have the time to cheer, though. He hears voices and the bin crashing on the ground and he panics a little because River \- but then suddenly there she is, jumping from the top of the wall like a cat and starting to run the moment she touches the ground with her hand immediately linked to his.  _ _ _

_ "They're coming after us from the next alley!" she explains, as they rush through the minor streets of the town. Soon their orphanage comes into sight and John sighs internally with relief. On the outside he's panting quite badly. He's just glad he's not asthmatic. That'd be really unfortunate, considering his life is basically trouble and running away from it.  _ _ _

_ Quickly, they head towards a little window on the ground floor. It's their secret passage, the one the get in and out when they feel like being a bit naughty. Which happens most of the time. River has the worst influence on him.  _ _ _

_ John quickly fishes his screwdriver from his back pocket. Well, technically not his his \- he borrowed it some years ago from Petey, the caretaker of the institute; well, he didn't ask him per se, but it's really not the point at the moment. He starts loosening the screws so that they can get inside.  _ _ _

_ "Hurry up, John!" River urges him impatiently.  _ _ _

_ "I'm working as fast as I can" he mumbles through his teeth, focused on his task. He shouldn't have screwed them back completely, earlier.  _ _ _

_ "I'm still wondering why you didn't pick up the electric one."  _ _ _

_ "Oi! Don't diss the screwdriver! It's always helped us perfectly!" he says, finishing in that very moment to remove all the metallic bits. "All done!" he exclaims, as River turns to help him remove the slab. She lets him go inside first, then she sneaks in too, taking the slab with her and positioning it back.  _ _ _

_ John quickly secures the screws back from the inside, just as they hear the voices of the two people that were following them.  _ _ _

_ Both John and River sag against the wall and down the dusty floor of the secret storage room. A few seconds of silence pass and then they both burst into laughter, relief and adrenaline flooding through their veins.  _ _ _

_ "That was close, oh god." he exhales, letting his head thump behind him and his eyes close for a second. He vaguely hears River moving by his side as he tries to catch his breath.  _ _ _

_ "Yes, but the booty we've earned makes up for it."  _ _ _

_ John opens his eyes to see her grinning widely at the bag she'd been holding the whole time as she rummages inside it. "Et voilà!" she cheers, handing to him a handful of candies. John grabs them gratefully, his mouth watering at the sight.  _ _ _

_ "Honestly, it's crazy they literally ran after us for these." he muses.  _ _ _

_ River shrugs. "It's more fun this way." she says, smirking and John can't help but mirror her.  _ _ _

***

John’s nearly fifteen when things change for him.

He is out for a run – the only thing that can clear his head and keep him busy – in the less inhabited part of the town, when he very nearly kills himself tripping on his own feet because a wheelchair suddenly appeared in front of him. 

The man on it is surely still good-looking despite his advanced age, and is grinning at him like a madman. “Mate, would you mind give this old man a push?” 

John is confused at first, but then he hears a yell coming from a very angry looking nurse and his body is moving before his head has made a synapse. Suddenly he finds himself steering the man away from the woman behind them, adrenaline in his veins and a smile on his lips, the first genuine one in ages.

He discovers that the man’s name is Jack Harkness and that he’s possibly the friendlier person in the known universe. John accompanies him to buy two very large bottles of vodka for a secret party and Jack invites him to come meet his friends. 

Social rules advice not to follow peculiar old strangers, but John’s never been one for rules, and besides Jack seems a really nice person. 

So he finds himself in the candle-lit backyard of the Northampton nursery home with a bunch of wild seventy-year-olds that drink vodka and eat kilos of ice cream they’re glad to share with him. 

When he gets home late that night and confesses to the Smiths he was out with some friends, his foster parents are so happy he’s not _that_ abnormal that not only he doesn’t get any punishment, but they promise him he’ll get to choose a scientific instrument of his liking. 

***

_ "John."  _ _ _

_ A whisper catches his attention and distracts him from his growling empty stomach. John sits on his bed and squints his eyes to see in the darkness. "River?" he asks, even though it's obvious it's his best friend.  _ _ _

_ "Of course it's me, silly." _ _ _

_ "Did you have a nightmare?" he worries immediately, ready to shift a bit to welcome her in his bed.  _ _ _

_ "No, I can't sleep because I'm too hungry. Come with me." _ _ _

_ "Where?" he wonders, unsure. They weren't allowed to have supper because they got in trouble, and as much as he loves creating havoc with his best friend, he would like to avoid skipping breakfast too.  _ _ _

_ "To the kitchen. Maybe there are some leftovers." John wants to think it over for a second, but his stomach decides to take the decision for him, grumbling. "Come on" River says, and even though he can't see her face, he's pretty sure she's smirking smugly. He sighs, slipping out of his bed and following her down the corridors to the kitchen. The building is dead silent around him. He wonders what the time is. Probably very very late.  _ _ _

_ "We really should get a torch sometime." she mumbles, as they step on the cold tiled floor of the kitchen. John closes the door behind him and turns the lights on. He blinks twice before his eyes start to adjust to the sudden brightness. River is already opening the fridge. John joins her there and scans what's inside it that seems edible. There isn't much.  _ _ _

_ River grabs a bowl and uncaps it. She sniffs it with a disgusted face. "Ugh. Nope."  _ _ _

_ John bends a bit to sniff it too and nearly gags. "Beans. Bad beans. Please put them away!"  _ _ _

_ Once they put away the evil beans, John and River continue their research. "What's this?" River says, grabbing another bowl wrapped in cellophane. She uncovers it and dips a finger in the yellowy cream in it. "Custard." she announces. "Not bad."  _ _ _

_ "Yes, but we can't just eat that." John muses, opening the freezer to see if there's something in there to cook. And bingo! "Fish fingers! Now we're talking"  _ _ _

_ River looks at him doubtfully. "Fish fingers and custard? It doesn't sound very tasty."  _ _ _

_ "Let's find out."  _ _ _

_ They cook the fish fingers, that luckily aren't the hardest thing to prepare for two eight-year-olds, and then they sit at the small table in the room with the bowl of custard between them. "Together?" River asks and John nods, as they dip their fish fingers in the cream and they bit them at the same time.  _ _ _

_ Two matching grins appear on their faces.  _ _ _

***

John finds himself visiting Jack and his friends more and more regularly and after a few months he feels comfortable to really call them friends. 

Of course they’re not his River, but they’re funny and amazing and brilliant and _mad_ and they love him regardless of his past or his weirdness. Actually, they cherish the latter like only one other person ever has, and John starts to feel like himself after years of solitude and grief. 

Everything isn’t dull anymore. He learns to laugh again, thanks to Jack and Donna, and Chris, and Rose and Martha and Micky and Sarah Jane and Other John. He feels full of life and enthusiasm and curiosity and he has people to share all his interests with. He’s wild and restless and voracious of life again, and ironically it’s a bunch of seventy-year-olds in retirement that snap him out of his stillness. 

Not that how old they are matters. The age gap never turns out to be a problem, maybe because he’s more mature than he seems, maybe because his friends are still teenagers at heart, he doesn’t know. 

Either way, thanks to their vitality and their pranks and their affection, John feels at ease for the first time in years.

He knows River would love them.

***

_ "D'ya know what's cool?" John pipes up, spluttering bits of the food he's munching on. River rolls her eyes at his atrocious manners and dips half of fish finger in the little bowl of custard sitting between them on the roof of the Greystark Hall.  _ _ _

_ "Nothing you say it is, I guess."  _ _ _

_ "Oi! That's really rude!"  _ _ _

_ River smirks at him when she sees him pouting. "It doesn't make it less true, though."  _ _ _

_ "You don't even know what I was going to say!" John whines, glowering a bit at her. She's always such a buzzkill with all her sassy comebacks and sarcasm - and with him she's even less cutting than usual. How has that tiny and shy bundle of curls he met eleven years ago become this slaying snarky individual, John doesn't know. It must have been the food of the orphanage, for sure.  _ _ _

_ "Fine, then, what's cool?" she asks obligingly, rolling her eyes again. John deliberately ignores her attitude in order to continue his previously rudely interrupted musing. He grins widely, swinging his legs over the ledge of the building and looking at the starry night before his eyes as if he could see the object of his desires n it.  _ _ _

_ "Bowties, River!" he exclaims, flailing his arms around with excitement so hard he nearly loses his balance. Thankfully, River has the quickest and readiest reflexes in the universe and, with a nonchalance only a person used to his grand clumsiness is, steadies him before he manages to kill himself in a frankly very embarrassing way. _ _ _

_ She doesn't say anything, but her glare speaks for itself. John gives her a shy, grateful smile as he moves backward slightly so that he has less chances to risk his life. He crosses his legs; he should be safe now, unless he pisses River off and she decides to push him over the ledge. Which would be really impratical and counterproductive, considering that she just saved him from that very destiny.  _ _ _

_ Luckily the tension of the moment before melts away and River is looking at him with the same mirth as before. "Anyway, bowties, really?" she asks, with just a light mockery in her tone. "What are you, seventy?"  _ _ _

_ "Oi, watch the sarcasm! Your liver will get atrociously irritated with all that acidity!"  _ _ _

_ "The only atrocious thing here is your fashion sense, sweetie" she quips back quickly. "You really are socially oblivious." _ _ _

_ "I grew up in an orphanage, River, nobody expects me to be anything less. And besides, it's not like you exactly care about social norms, miss."  _ _ _

_ "I still know how to dress, though." she says, grabbing the last fish finger in the plate. John eyes her bitterly, but decides to put aside the fact that she's eaten part of his portion to defend his fashion sense. Which is absolutely fabulous.  _ _ _

_ "Bowties are cool, River! They' make you look distinguished" he insists, feeling his ears getting redder with indignation.  _ _ _

_ "Bowties are ridiculous." she corrects, pointing the last half bitten fish singer at him as to make a point. Or to annoy him, he's not sure.  _ _ _

_ "Not if you know how to wear them. You have to be a certain kind of man to pull them off, of course." _ _ _

_ Something changes in River's eyes as she sizes him up with an unreadable expression. A smirk curls the angles of her mouth.  _ _ _

_ "Now that I think about it, you're right. A bowtie would suit you."  _ _ _

_ He lights up at her words. Finally she's seeing it. He smiles smugly. "Because I'm cool, huh?" _ _ _

_ "No, because you're ridiculous." she says, smearing a handful of custard on his face with a wild laugh.  _ _ _

_ John stares at her agape.  _ _ _

_ "River!" _

***

It hits him and it hits him hard when he first realizes it. He’s moving on. He’s learning to be happy without River after five years. 

Somehow, he’s come to accept her absence. There’s still a hole impossible to heal in his soul that calls for her to be next to him, but somehow that wound has become an integral part of him. He’s gotten used to it. 

The idea terrifies him to the core. 

He’s glad to be alone with Donna when his monstrous eureka dawns on him. She knows about River – all his friends know about her – and she knows him well too, and it takes her literally a second to figure out why he’s nearly having a panic attack. 

Donna comforts him with careful, attentive hands, maneuvering him in such a way he wonders if she doesn’t have an instruction manual on how to handle him. 

“Have I ever told you about Lee?” she asks him, his head in her lap, as she strokes his hair soothingly. John shakes his head no, relaxing under her touch and words. 

Lee was her true love, she explains. He was handsome and amazing and they were so in love with each other. Unfortunately, he was victim of an accident in the sea. He didn’t die, Donna tells him, but he never came home to her because he’d lost his memories of her. “I had to move on from my grief, at some point. I got married with my former husband, I got the career of my dreams. But I’ve never stopped missing him, not even for a moment. Not even now.” 

John just moves from her lap to hug her extra tight. 

***

John was an utter imbecile to think he could be happy again. He wonders how he could be so stupid. As if life hadn’t been clear enough after making him an orphan and taking him away the only other person he considered family. 

Just to make him even more miserable, now it’s taking him away from his friends too. 

John wants to scream and break something. 

Instead he slips in his sneakers, sneaks out of his house and starts running. And he runs and runs and runs, and his lungs burn and his heart beats wildly, until he finds himself in front of the nursery home.

It’s eleven p.m. on a November night, it’s quite cold, but he knows they’ll be in the backyard smoking and chatting. 

John finds his usual dark spot and climbs over the gate, luckily without killing himself in the meantime. Apparently, anger and desperation make him exceedingly coordinated. 

He easily rounds the building without being noticed, but Martha notices him as soon as he steps in the backyard. “John, what are you doing here so late?” 

He doesn’t answer immediately. He stomps towards her and hugs her without a word. 

Martha holds him back briefly, before grabbing his shoulders to push him away enough to look in his eyes. “What the hell is going on?” 

John collapses on the cold grass. He doesn’t care if his trousers are going to have stains. A meteorite could strike his house and he wouldn’t _care_. 

His friends look at him sternly and waiting for an explanation, so he tells them everything. How he eavesdropped his parents discussing his problems in interacting with people of his own age, the fact that he’d lied about his friends and their age and his behavior at school. He tells them they want to move to another town, away from here, away from them so that he can be _normal_ with normal people and he’s so angry, so so angry, because they’re snatching him away from the people he loves _again_ and it’s so not _fair_. 

“John, don’t worry.” Rose says, ruffling his hair. Her face is serious though, and John knows she is just as bitter for the situation as he is. As the others are. “Some of us still have license. We’ll rent or steal a car and come find you.”

“Yeah, you can’t get rid of us” Mickey says, “We won’t let you.” 

“And maybe it’s not a bad idea, you know?” Donna interjects. John turns to her and can see how affected she is by the news, but she’s also unapologetically resolute. “There’s nothing wrong with being friends with us, darling, and we love you. And we won’t abandon you. But maybe it will be good, getting out of this stinky prejudiced town. You deserve that.” 

John sighs. “I’m just tired of missing people. Why can’t I have you around all the time?”

“Oi, mister, do we have to remind you that not even a bloody war managed to keep me and Mickey Mouse here apart? A few kilometers won’t certainly make the trick.” Jack exclaims with fervor. Then his face softens in a smile. “It will be fine.”

John is not sure if he trusts himself to hope. 

***

_ "I've got a present for you." River tells him once they've finished eating and cleaning their dishes. She takes his hand and drags him out of the dining hall without being noticed by their minder.  _ _ _

_ "You shouldn't have, River" he tells her, because he knows that means she got out and probably nearly put herself in trouble. Not that that's new, but at least they're together usually. It's different, it's better being two to help each other. They're partners in crime, after all.  _ _ _

_ "Hush. Since when I care about the shoulds and the shouldn'ts?" she sing-songs, entering her dormitory. She leaves the door half closed in order to ear possible steps and pushes him on her bed. "Close your eyes." she orders and John complies. There's a ruffling sound and then something light and smooth touches his palm.  _ _ _

_ "Look."  _ _ _

_ John opens his eyes and lowers them to look at what's placed on his hands. His throat feels suddenly thick with emotion. It's a bowtie. A red, beautiful bowtie. He looks at her in awe. "River."  _ _ _

_ River, who has been nervously playing with her own hands in her lap, meets his gaze shyly. "Do you like it then? You know, I didn't even steal it. Did it the legal way. Well, sort of. But -" _ _ _

_ John decides to cut her nervous ramblings by hugging her. He buries his face in her hair and squeezes her with all the affection he can show. "It's gorgeous. Thank you." he whispers, not trusting his own voice enough to speak louder without cracking. But really, she's the real gift. She's always been and he's so, so grateful to have her in his life. He hopes she knows that.  _ _ _

_ River hugs him back just as tightly, just as emotionally.  _ _ _

_ "Happy eleventh birthday, Johnny."  _ _ _

***

His parents tell him about their plan the day after he heard them and with two weeks of preparations they’re ready to go.

John is not, of course. He’s still a bit angry and mostly defeated, but surely not ready. His foster parents, on the other hand, are excessively excited. Janeth is nearly bubbly, as she locks for good the door of their house.

This is what they need, he knows. A fresh start at normality. They’re so hopeful he’ll change his antics, that suddenly he’ll become the son they always desired and not the broken one they’re dealing with now. John feels just a little bit sorry because he dou bts anything will change in Leadworth, especially if people there are as obsessed with normality as his foster parents are. He sighs, looking at his now old house with a bitter taste on his tongue. It never really felt like home, that place, but it’s still where he lived the last five years. It’s okay to be a little nostalgic. 

Janeth leaves the keys in the mailbox and joins him and Donald at the car. She smiles at John sweetly. “You’ll see, darling. You’ll love Leadworth.” 

He forces to smile back before getting in the car. Don has the radio on and cheerfully sings along as he starts the car. John fishes his bag from under his feet and takes his headphones out so he can spare himself the quite insulting happiness in the car.

They’ve barely made past the limits of the city when a blast coming from town center catches his attention over the music in his ears. John sticks his head outside his window and looks in the opposite direction the car is following to see what it was. 

There are other blasts, puffs of smoke in the sky over the area of the nursery home. John feels his throat constrict, but he can’t help the smile on his face. 

He’ll be back soon enough to visit his fantastic old fellas. That’s a promise.


End file.
